CHAPTER XI.
THE QUARREL.
The new fishermen could hardly wait to beat up the circle so eager were they to see what their nets contained.
"I guess we have got all there was in the circle," Charley at last announced. "Let's start to take up. Fasten your lantern to the end of an oar and fix it so it will shine down on your net so that you can see what you are doing, look out for cat fish. I put a short club in each of the skiffs to-day. If you get a cat fish, kill it before you try to take it out of your net."
"What kind of looking fish are they?" Walter paused to inquire.
"They are a slimy fish without scales," Charley explained. "They have a flat head and on each side of the gills and on the back are needle-sharp horns about three inches long with fine saw teeth along the edge. When the fish are swimming the horns lay back flat against the body, but when they strike a net or anything else, they stick the horns straight out. They are fierce to take out of a net, they will tangle up dozens of meshes on those horns and the fine twine is hard to work off the saw edges. It's dangerous to handle them unless they are killed for they are liable to flop and stick those horns in you and make a very poisonous wound. Well, let's get to work, the night is slipping away fast."
With lanterns popped out over the skiff's stern the three set to work.
At first it was exciting to haul in the nets with the struggling fish entangled in their meshes, and to watch the pile in their boats steadily grow, but the novelty soon wore off and only the hard work remained. And hard work it was, harder than either the captain or Walter had dreamed. A breeze had arisen since sunset and they had to drag their skiffs up against it as they pulled in their nets. When they came to a fish they had to hold the net with their feet, while they bent over under the dim light and freed it from the entangling meshes. Every now and then they came to a great mass of sea moss caught up in their nets, which required all their strength to dump out, nor did they escape painful accidents, although they met with none of the dreaded cat fish, every fish handled by them seemed armed with sharp fins and their fingers were soon sore with a multitude of tiny punctures. A flopping fish flipped a bit of jelly into the captain's eye. It burned like a touch from a red hot iron, and the old sailor half blinded grew faint from the intense pain. At last Walter realized what it meant to handle four hundred yards of net. Before he had got half of his in the boat he was fairly ready to lie down and cry from pain and sheer weariness.
Charley, more expert, soon had his net boated and taking hold of the other end of Walter's helped him with the balance, then rowed over and performed a like service for the captain. "Let's rest a little bit and eat our lunch before we start again," he suggested when the nets were all up. "I'll anchor my boat and you both come alongside and tie up to me so we can all eat together."
He had brought a box partly filled with sand along in his skiff and in it he now proceeded to build a small fire on which he boiled coffee and heated up the lunch Chris had given them. The hot meal and steaming coffee made his two companions almost forget for a time their pains and weariness.